


I'll hang from your lips instead of the gallows of heartache

by youthwillnotendure



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youthwillnotendure/pseuds/youthwillnotendure
Summary: Two idiots falling in love despite themselves and saving each other in the process. One ex-ISB agent and a Rebel exploring their base.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	I'll hang from your lips instead of the gallows of heartache

Sitting in a cell was never pleasant. Sitting in a cold cell with an injured leg that only seemed to ache more with the cold and nothing other than a thin blanket to keep him warm was less than tolerable. The only saving grace about being in this particular cell was that it was a Rebel cell and not one of the Empire’s. They were much more unpleasant, the cold wasn’t just something physical but something that settled deep into your bones and mind, leeching life from you and making you wish that you could find something in the room to kill yourself with. His prison may have been like any other, cold, small and with a smell that he didn’t want to investigate but at least when he looked up at the walls he could see a window to the outside. He wasn’t just staring at four blank walls waiting to go mad, no. Alexsandr Kallus could see the sun, and the sky and birds overhead and he thought that he might just be fine with anything else that happened now that he had seen that sight one last time. 

There wasn’t much to do in his cell and in a way he was grateful for the lack of distractions. It forced him to think about all that he had accomplished as Fulcrum and a Rebel spy, but all that he had failed in as well. He poured over every move he had made in the last couple of weeks before his capture, wondering if there was a defining mistake that he had made that led him to be here. Being here wasn’t necessarily the bad thing, it was more that he wasn’t there and able to help more that was the difficult part. He still had a long way to go before he felt that he had even started to atone for the wrongs he had done in the name of the Empire. He could think about the ways that Thrawn had been toying with him, letting him think that he had been getting away with it all before the crushing weight of reality had hit him just like a punch to his face. 

Alexsandr remembered the meeting, standing there tall and proud and trying to not let any visible sign of worry show. Looking back it had been clear that Thrawn had already known that he was Fulcrum, or at least was close to having his suspicions confirmed, that particular line of questioning should have made it obvious. But, it was also clear that he had no option than to continue to plough forward with his plan. If he had tried to flee then it would just confirm Thrawn’s thoughts sooner and potentially lead the Chiss to the Rebels sooner than anticipated. If he wasn’t cautious then he could cause much more destruction than he ever had before. Staying and continuing to send coded messages was the best option, at least that way he could do some good before he was killed by the Empire. 

One thing that Alexsandr hadn’t prepared for was being treated with civility and being given medical attention by the Rebels once they had picked up his escape pod. He had expected his hands to be bound, to be fed nothing and given enough water to stay alive but not wasting their precious rations. He would have preferred that, there were others there who could have used it more than himself. Of course he was still in a cell, it was cold beyond belief, but he presumed they didn’t know just how much the cold was affecting him. The planet seemed to be a warm one, at least this time of the year so it was expected that they have a preference for the cooler temperatures inside. 

For the first few days he had received no visitors and was barely awake enough to see who it was that had been dropping off food. He only knew that it was proper food and it was edible. Eventually though as he became more aware of his surroundings and less caught in a haze of pain and painkillers, he noticed the sounds of life beyond his cell. No other sounds of movement from the other cells, only that of droids moving and people living their lives beyond. 

On the fifth day of being in the cell (from the time he had been aware enough to start taking notice of the days), Alexsandr opened his eyes to be face to face with a very particular member of the Ghost crew. “Garazeb.” He greeted, pulling the thin blanket around his shoulders tighter. 

“It’s cold in here. You should have said something to the guards.” Zeb muttered, moving to crouch down in front of him. “You won’t be healing right if you keep in temperatures like this.” He finished off. He gazed up at Alexsandr from where he crouched, eyes filled with what seemed like genuine worry.

“I was not aware of anyone outside I could have, even if I wanted to. The cold is bearable.” He explained, borrowing from some of his ISB training that his body had yet to forget. It was the cruelest form of muscle memory - to be so familiar with those that had caused the people you cared about so much pain, and to use their ways. “But yes, it is chilly in here.” He conceded, finding he missed the warmth of the meteorite he had kept safe since Bahryn. Absentmindedly he thought of what could have happened to it. He rather hoped destroyed if the other option was falling into Thrawn’s hands. He had seen how the Grand Admiral had treated General Syndulla’s childhood trinket and Sabine Wren’s artwork and he didn’t want that scrutiny poisoning his happy memory. That meteorite had kept him going through the months of spying, reminding him what he had been doing this all for and what had made him defect in the first place. 

“Well, too late now. You’re being let out. With a guard.” Zeb explained as he stood up, offering his hand out to the ex-Agent. A moment later his mouth quirked up in a half smile, as if that was the most necessary part of the whole thing. “I thought we could take a walk around the base, show you what’s going on… what you helped us build.” 

Despite his reservations and his thoughts of how he deserved nothing but punishment for his past offences, Alexsandr took Zeb’s offered hand and stood up. He was ready to see the Rebellion and the future he had helped to build.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Work title from the song I'll Be by Edwin McCain.  
> Chapter 1 title: For the Dancing and the Dreaming from How To Train Your Dragon


End file.
